


Hazy Cosmic Jive

by NotUlysses



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: First Times, Fluff, M/M, Space Hockey AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 06:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17381084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotUlysses/pseuds/NotUlysses
Summary: Anthony Duclair joins the Planet Columbus Blue Jackets Space Hockey Team on a league-minimum contract.It goes... way better than he expected.





	Hazy Cosmic Jive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [couldaughter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/couldaughter/gifts).



> They scored two power-play goals last night, so maybe this "worked". We can hope.
> 
> Title from David Bowie's _Starman_.
> 
> Thanks to my beta! All other mistakes are my own.

_Prologue_

Pierre-Luc Dubois, handsome, talented and well-liked in the locker room, had lived nearly twenty-one cycles in the universe with very little to distress or vex him. Sure, there had been an… incident a couple of years ago when the Planet Columbus Blue Jackets had taken him third overall in the space draft, to the great surprise and wonderment of all, especially Puljujarvi, who came from the same colony as PL’s new general manager and who had expected to be drafted in the exact spot that PL had been taken.

PL had gotten his fair share of criticism after that, which mostly consisted of think pieces written in the Space Athletic about how much of a disappointment he was, and how he’d personally ruined Canada Galaxy’s chance to win the gold medal at the Universal Juniors, but he’d sailed through all those with nary a scratch in the opinions of those who actually mattered, and his first season in the SHL had been the kind of pure magic one expected from fairy tales, not sports.

In other words, he was exactly the kind of guy that Anthony Duclair, who was about to sign a league-minimum contract with his fourth space hockey team in a career that was only three seasons long, should despise on principle.

 

_Nouveau Montréal, before training camp, star date 3018._

The first thing Duke realises about Pierre-Luc Dubois is that he’s cute. He’d seen his face smiling down at him from billboards on Planet Columbus while he was there with his agent, signing his contract, meeting the staff, all that stuff. But for once, the advertisements understated the case. Even the fucking freckles across the bridge of his nose are cute, which is supremely unfair.

He beams at Duke, too. Like… like he’s pleased to meet him. Genuinely pleased, not “oh, my agent gave me your number and I guess I better pretend to tell you about your new team and be your friend this summer, so I can get brownie points towards my eventual captaincy bid.”

Duke has met a lot of Young Prospective Hopes of the Franchise in his career. He knows the type. He’d been expecting the standard treatment: a few carefully choreographed meetups, conveniently timed for call-ins from the team’s trainers and coaching staff, maybe a holovid at a healthy restaurant taken by Nouveau Montreal’s infamous space hockey loving paparazzi, and being ignored the rest of the time.

But instead, PL is grinning at him, offering to split zero-grav time at the local rink, and offering to get Duke in with his personal trainer, who understands all the, frankly, medieval tortures that Coach Torts expected from his team in camp. “12 minute spacewalk,” Torts had cackled when Duke signed his contract, sounding exactly like an evil villain in an action vid.

And, according to PL, the 12 minute spacewalk just kicked off a full week of torture and fitness testing. “It sucks,” PL warns, “but, like, you survive. And you bond with the team and stuff. We all get through it together, you know.”

PL turns out to be a pretty good companion. He’s a Talker, so Duke feels like he knows the rest of the guys by the time he’s spent 2 days training with PL, which, yes, it turns out PL wasn’t just being nice about. He was completely serious about the zero-grav time, and the trainer, and Duke, whose besetting sin —if you asked any of his coaches— is a tendency towards a lack of motivation for the gravwork of Space Hockey, finds that the training goes a lot easier when you have a willing and friendly teammate suffering alongside you.

A willing and friendly teammate who’s always up for some VRnite, or swimming, or just hanging out. Summer is usually an interminable mess of trying to find apartments and understand a new coach’s fitness requirements and not getting anywhere near enough zero-grav time after the exhilaration of being able to float in three dimensions 6 days a week. This summer, though, is fun.

And four’s always been Duke’s lucky number, so maybe between PL and his own determination, this will finally be the team that works.

 

_Planet Columbus, Training Camp_

Duke had assumed he’d be ditched a bit more when PL was back with his friends, but instead PL just drags him along with him.

“You have to meet Sedsy,” he enthuses, and they go over to the small apartment owned by Lukas Sedlak, who’s got red hair and the biggest grin Duke has ever seen on a human.

“He’s our fine-master,” PL says, like he’s proud to have a connection with such an illustrious personage.

Duke stares. His last team had had someone who didn’t smile so much as their fine master. He opens his mouth to make sure he’d heard right, but there’s no need.

“I’m in charge of the fines,” Sedsy confirms, beaming at him, “I got the job because I’m the smartest person on the team. I was the only one who could answer Calvy’s riddle.”

Duke just nods.

“It was very hard,” PL agrees. When pressed, though, neither of them can remember what the riddle was, so Duke has to take their word for it.

“Anyway, as fine master, I say that Andy owes us all lunch for that _hideous_ space-bear coat he brought,” Sedsy decides, and that’s completely fair. Duke had added Andy’s InstaHolo account in the summer, and the space-bear coat was an awful mix of red and green and blue.

Apparently, Sedsy means _right now_ , because he’s being dragged along to a restaurant, where they meet up with two other guys.

“Finns and Ollie can’t make it,” one of them -- the one that looks like a dark haired Android, although PL _swears_ he’s human -- “they have some other thing on.”

Duke is vaguely aware that the Finns do everything together. He remembers InstaHolos of them in a traditional sauna, (“built just the way an Earth Finn would build one!”, the caption had said) being… well. In a sauna together.

“This is Josh. Err… Andy,” PL interrupts his thoughts, and... huh.

There’s something about the way that he says Josh that makes Duke quirk an eyebrow. The way he stammers, just a bit, over his name.

Duke knows that feeling. Duke has been that feeling.

PL and Andy don’t sit next to each other at lunch, but they’re conveniently close enough that they occasionally bump hands together. Duke, in the confusion of being new and not knowing where to sit, ends up across from Zach, who, if he isn’t an Android is certainly a human who was born without the need to _blink_. It’s more than a little creepy, even if Zach’s nice enough below the dead-eyed mask.

The afternoon goes from lunch to VRnite. Zach’s as good at VR games as he’s bad at facial expressions, and he pronounces that Duke is his most worthy competitor amongst his teammates. That’s an honour that makes Duke almost stammer with embarrassment, and he covers by saying, quickly, “I heard Sedsy brag about his skillz at lunch.”

“Really,” Zach drawls. “Should make sure he puts his credits where his mouth is, then,” he grins, and… Zach grinning looks unusual. It’s almost frightening.

 

_Before the preseason game against the Pittsburgh Colony Penguins_

Some things are universal. Like gameday chatter. And teammates being, well… idiots.

It’s mostly a way to burn off some nerves, Duke knows, but it’s… well, it can get irritating. He’s more of a silent type before games.

“Wait, penguins were real?” PL asks, voice incredulous.

Dubinsky rolls his eyes. “They were some kind of flightless bird,” he says, patient.

“That’s just dumb,” PL declares, after thinking about it for a moment, “birds should fly, that’s the entire _point_.”

Dubinsky slaps him on the back. “Fuck yeah, that’s the spirit,” he encourages.

Duke catches someone’s eye across the room. One of the… Finns? Maybe? Nut-- Nuty? Something like that?

He can’t tell for certain who it is, the team still mostly a blur of incomprehensible young athletic guys, but he can definitely tell that the guy is rolling his eyes at him.

 

_After the game_

Preseason results don’t matter, Duke knows, but apparently scoring a goal against Pittsburgh (and such a good goal, hovering breakaway using all three dimensions and a backflip) is enough to make his new teammates garrulous with excitement.

They really hate the Pens, and, after having seen how they got away with a too-many-hoverboards during a powerkill, Duke can understand why.

So he's at a bar with the rest of the young posse, and Josh is explaining that, as Pittsburgh Colony is larger than Planet Columbus, the SHL makes referee decisions based on ratings.

“Plus they love kissing Sidney Crosby’s ass just because he scored the triple-golden goal for Canada Galaxy at the Olympics in ’10, even though it should’ve been a powerkill because Weber tripped up Parise right before,” Zach points out, which makes Josh and PL squawk with outrage and try to wrestle Zach into submission, and, to Duke’s—admittedly inexpert—eye, that seems to mostly be an excuse for the two of them to keep touching hands and looking longingly at each other.

Particularly since it’s rather a weak chirp on Zach’s part. Duke’s from Canada Galaxy and he’s not offended. He knows the United Galaxy have a sore spot about that play. If Josh and PL were being sensible, and not doing the will-he-won’t-he dance they could’ve pointed out that Miller, the United goalie, had fucked up his net teleport in the second, letting a goal into the wrong net during a multi-puck.

Apparently unresolved sexual tension is the order of the evening, though, and the guys do seem to be having fun, even if PL and Josh should just kiss already. Sedsy comes in to “even things up” for Zach, although Zach’s doing just fine on his own, reflexes suspiciously fast, even for an athlete in his prime.

Duke definitely would _not_ bet 100 credits on Zach not being an Android.

 

_The one off day_

“Legally,” PL explains, “Torts is only allowed to torture us for ten days straight. On the eleventh day, we rest.”

Well, “rest”. It’s actually team bonding, and this year they have plans for star golf, ‘Young Guys versus Adults’. The Adults, Duke has been informed, are any of the guys who have families or are older than 26.

True to their advanced age, the Adults complain that they’d prefer something less active. “Maybe a cookout?” Fliggy suggests, hopefully, “we won’t be able to do that once it starts snowing.”

“It’ll be ages before we can play star golf again too,” Boone points out. As an A, he was the self-elected Voice of the Young Guys in the room.

The Adults aren’t convinced, but the Young Guys win, in the end, mostly because they employ the tactic of getting Wenny to taunt Dubi about his narrow victory against him in some game they played last season. PL had recounted it while they were training, and Duke didn’t comprehend all the details, but apparently, it was ‘epic’ and involved a bucketful of slime.

So they all troop off to the Rec Island in the middle of Lake Ohio, which dominates this half of the planet, and they all get way too competitive about it, chirping and pairing up on the shuttle ride over. “I’ll claim Wenny,” Ollie starts, “gotta win, after all”.

“Should claim me,” Dubi argues, full of confidence. “If winning’s what’s important to you.”

“He literally can’t, you’re an _adult_ ,” Cam says, fondly, even though Duke feels like the Adult status the team’s ascribed to Dubinsky is dubious at best.

Wenny smirks at Dubi. “He said he wants to win,” he points out, and laughs when Dubi tries to headlock him and mess up his hair, gliding away with all the grace of a cat. It’s almost unfair, Duke thinks, that someone can be so graceful and coordinated in zero-grav _and_ normal grav.

It’s only because everyone’s been so nice that Duke is surprised by the sinking feeling he gets when they all start picking their partners. It’s just a little disconcerting to see how all the guys kind of… pair up. Josh and PL are together, of course, both acting like it’s completely random, Ryan pairs up with Boone, and… Duke feels a little left out, for a second. He’s never felt like this prior to entering the Space Hockey League -- athletes don’t get picked last for teams in school -- but he’s been the New Guy so much in his career that it’s becoming part of his psyche.

And then he feels a hand on his arm. “Team up?” the Common is lightly accented, and Duke realises that it’s Nuti. He must be staring, because the next thing out of Nuti’s mouth is “I’m good, I promise, but Hanni and Korpi have to play together so Korpi doesn’t break a star when he misses a shot”.

Duke grins at him. “I don’t know,” he teases. “Sedsy is the smartest guy on the team, or so I’ve been told. Maybe I should go see if he’s available.”

He’s not. He’s paired himself up with Zach, as if they’re trying to prove that opposites really do attract.

“The smartest is the one who knows that trying to get his teammates to pay their credits is a thankless task,” Nuti grinned.

“You knew the answer to Calvert’s riddle?” Duke asks.

Nuti rolls his eyes. “Everyone thinks ‘oh, it’s a long math problem, very confusing’,” he explains. “But the second last command was times by zero.”

Duke laughs and laughs. That sounds exactly typical of what he’d expect space hockey players to do when confronted with a math problem. 

The Young Guys narrowly edge out the Adults, and Dubinsky pays for their tab at the 25th hole with all the grace of a man who has swallowed a lemon.

 

_Opening Night against the Red Wings of Detroit_

There’s something about the smell of the equipment they use to make the vacuum that smells like home, to Duke. Which is a really fucking corny line, but forgive him. Sometimes he’d wondered if he’d get a chance to do this again, play in an opening night, with a team, in front of billions of cheering humanoids.

He bumps his fist against Nuti’s as they wait in the airlock. It’s not as elaborate as PL and Josh’s handstand triple double high fist bump, but it’s good. Maybe it should be a ritual, Duke thinks, something he does every game.

Then he shakes himself. He shouldn’t count his rituals before they hatch, he knows.

The timer counts down. 5...4...3...2...1…

The airlock opens, and they float out into zero-grav for their first shift.

Duke activates his hoverskates automatically, following the game plan the coach had painstakingly drawn up for them. He floats around the blue zone, not entering, not wanting to screw up now and go offsides…

Wenny gets the puck to him, somehow, through a mess of Red Wings, and Nuti fakes a shot towards the third net, which means that Duke has the puck on his stick and the net is empty, and he _shoots_ and…

The goalie hadn’t teleported back in time. Duke’s a little stunned for a second, but then his teammates are crashing into him. Nuti hugs him tight, yells “fuck yeah,” in his ear.

He’s surprisingly loud for someone who’s normally so quiet.

 

_After the game_

They’d won, and Nuti had scored the game-winning goal, slingshotting the puck off a Wing and into the triple bonus net while it was glowing with star power.

It’s only polite for Duke to buy him a drink, really. “I love this song!” Nuti says, enthusiastically. It’s some sort of electronic cacophony. But… that’s fine. It makes Nuti happy.

Duke’s not sure why making Nuti happy is so important to him, but it is.

Nuti smiles at him and Duke. Well, he leans forward, and, if he was misreading the signs, he could always blame the alcohol. He presses his lips against Nuti’s.

Nuti doesn’t react for a moment, just long enough for Duke to have a momentary panic that he did misread the signs. But then he makes a soft, surprised noise, and he’s kissing Duke back, and oh. Wow.

There’s been a lot of kisses in human history. Many of them were probably better than this one. But it doesn’t matter to Duke, because this one is right.

He pulls away and smiles at Nuti, softly. “Hey, Nuti, wanna go back to my place? Get some privacy?”

Nuti… is kind of awkward to say in a suggestive tone, and clearly Nuti must agree, because he laughs at Duke even as he takes his offered hand.

“You could call me Markus,” he suggests, and… Duke tries it, feeling it in his mouth. It feels nice. Intimate. He’s Nuti to everyone else, but Markus…

Markus feels like _his_.

 

_Epilogue – Way too many games later_

PL was sulking. It was a weird look on him, and his face has a natural tendency to grin, so every so often he’d start smiling and then remember that he was sulking and frown, exaggerated.

It’d be endearing if it wasn’t so baffling.

He’s avoiding Duke, too, not being rude, but not being as nice as he normally is, finding excuses to avoid Duke. And Josh. Weird.

Clearly, this needs an intervention, and luckily Duke’s dating a master manipulator, or at least, someone who’s willing to invite PL to lunch with “the guys, at that place with the cool fountain,” and then disappear, claiming to be looking for their other teammates.

PL looks uncomfortable, shoves his hands in his pockets, but Duke’s determined.

“Hey, what’s the problem?” he asks, putting his hand on PL’s shoulder so he won’t try to slink away.

“I don’t think you and Josh work together,” he says, in a rush.

Duke must look stunned, because PL ploughs on, like he has to say his piece.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re both great guys, but…”

This is painful. Duke decides he has to interrupt before he dies of embarrassment.

“Why do you think I’m with Josh?” he asks.

It takes a second for PL to process the contents of the interruption. He frowns as the words sink in.

“You… you’re not together with Josh?” he asks.

“No,” Duke makes a face, “he’s a cool guy, great teammate, but… I’m not into him in that kind of way.”

“But… you were at his place so much two weeks ago.”

Duke rolls his eyes, “he had the SpaceUnicorn Flu. I had it last year, so I was immune and could bring him soup.”

He looks at PL, and… maybe it’s time to be just a little bit more direct.

“Why do you even care?” he asks, “you’re not in love with Josh, are you?”

“No, of course--” PL’s voice trails off, and Duke waits patiently. It can’t be far off now.

“Wait,” PL said. “I’m in love with Josh.” In the background, the fountain goes off, like it’s highlighting the fact that he’d had a revelation. Very convenient for narrative timing.

Duke nods his head, slowly. “Yes, you’re in love with Josh. For fuck’s sake, Nuti and I have been trying to set you two up all month!”

“Oh,” PL says. And… “That makes sense.”

He looks rather like a lot of things have come together all at once for him, and his brain is shorting out in the process.

“What do I do,” PL groans.

“Getting slightly drunk and making out with Nuti worked for me,” Duke suggests, with a laugh, as Nuti makes his way back across the room to join them, flashing a double thumbs up at Duke as he realises that PL is smiling again.

Duke’s dating such a dork. He’s so lucky.


End file.
